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Triforce of the Gods	By : Frances Category: Zelda > General Views: 1976 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Legend of Zelda, nor do I make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Legend of Zelda, nor do I make any money from these
writings.

Triforce of the Gods

Chapter Eight: No Choice
“You heard my reasons, Resha. I’m sorry if you don’t like them but I feel strongly about this,”
Zanna said as sensibly as she could while jumping out of the path of a blazing orange concussion
spell. She rolled onto her knees and sent a dark blue cloud toward Resha– a dazing charm, one
of Zanna’s specialties.
Resha leapt gracefully over the haze and charged Zanna for hand-to-hand combat. Zanna made a
face and ducked; in her entire life she had never beaten Resha in a straight, no-sorcery sparring
match.
“What about Rowan and I?” Resha asked. She was the epitome of grace as she effortlessly
danced through her combat positions. “You’re the closest thing we have to family– you’re just
going to go and get yourself killed without warning us?”
Zanna was panting now, doing all she could to avoid Resha’s fists. “It’s not– like that.” She
made one last great effort and swung her leg out at Resha’s ankles, hoping to trip her.
It wasn’t even close to being effective; Resha hopped over the attack as if she were playing a
children’s game. Then she kicked Zanna in the mouth.
“Gods in hell! Resha! You’re not supposed to make that kind of contact in a sparring match!”
Zanna cried, cursing profusely in Old Sheikan. She was on her hands and knees, having been
thrown by the force of the blow.
Resha laughed and offered her friend a hand up. They were in one of the castle’s less ornate
courtyards– a big open space with nothing in it except for a few flower beds on one of the far
walls. Since they were forbidden to leave, they had unanimously decided to be as much of a
nuisance as possible, and had taken up daily sparring matches within the castle walls.
“Need any help, Zanna?” Rowan asked from a few yards away, where he was sprawled on the
grass as he awaited his turn.
“Nah, I got it,” she said. Her fingertips took on a glittering teal glow, and she gently massaged
the light into her jaw, wincing. “Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you,” she said to Resha. Her
nose wrinkled and she spat out the blood in her mouth. “But I was afraid you’d interfere. I’m
still afraid.”
Her dark eyes flickered between her friends somberly. They were both wrapped up in their
scarves and wearing the traditional tunics; identical purple symbols adorned each of their chests.
It hurt to see them like that... it made it seem like the village’s destruction was just a bad dream
and their families would miraculously appear at the castle gates, dressed just like Rowan and
Resha and worried sick about where their son and daughters had been. Zanna was the only one
who had opted to stop concealing herself– she couldn’t bear to stay in the traditional garb. Since
her guest bedroom had nothing but dresses in the bureau, she’d stolen a soft, dark blue tunic and
tan leggings from one of the men’s guest rooms.
“You shouldn’t be afraid,” Rowan said, stretching as he stood up and approached them. “We
won’t let you do anything stupid.”
“That’s the point,” Zanna sighed, running her fingers along the long braid she’d swept her hair
into. “You have to understand that I will die for this if I have to. I’m sick of being bullied.”
“You’re not being bullied!” Resha exclaimed, shaking her head in exasperation. “Who do you
think is bullying you? You’re the one who got yourself into this mess!”
“I am being bullied,” Zanna insisted vehemently. She turned away and crossed her arms,
looking thoughtfully up into the clouds. “I’m sick of the dreams. I’m sick of empty history
books with no answers. And I am sick of the Goddesses. I’ll die before I let them push me
around like everyone else.” Her voice had become very soft, but incredibly fierce. She glanced
back at her companions.
“Zanna, what are you talking about?” Resha cried. “Gods, you’re so melodramatic. The
Goddesses are pushing people around?! I’ve never heard anything so stupid.”
Zanna’s eyes blazed and she opened her mouth to retort, but Rowan interjected. “We’re not
going to get ugly over this,” he warned. Zanna ignored him.
“Did you ever ask yourself why the Sheikah were discarded by the royal family and left to die in
the snow?” she asked Resha conversationally, as if they were merely discussing the weather.
“Did you ever wonder why your people, whose empire was so powerful that Hylians shivered at
the word ‘Gerudo,’ now wander the country in pathetic bands of con-artists and petty thieves?”
“Don’t pick a fight with me, Zanna,” Resha growled, her yellow eyes blazing with fury. “I will
win!”
“I’m not picking a fight– I’m speaking the truth!” Zanna insisted fearlessly. “Again and again,
Hyrule is threatened and must vanquish an evil of unthinkable power... only to have it crop up
again one hundred years later. The Goddesses are playing games with us– all of us! But not me.
I won’t let them.” She glared back at Resha, shoulders square and head held high, seeming the
stronger of the two even though she had to crane her neck to meet Resha’s gaze. Resha ground
her teeth, likely using all of her strength to resist the urge to pitch Zanna across the courtyard
like a rag doll. But the mere fact that she was restraining herself was evidence that she was
unsettled by Zanna’s words.
After a long, tense silence, Zanna swept up her canteen of water and turned to leave.
“If they’re playing games with all of us, why are you taking it so personally?” Rowan asked
benignly.
Zanna stopped dead in her tracks, disarmed by the unanticipated question. Slowly, she turned
her head to look at him over her shoulder. “I don’t know,” she said loudly, but her voice
sounded strangely vulnerable, as if she might cry. “But I can’t ignore it– it hurts too much.”
And with that she walked calmly out of the courtyard, leaving her friends to their thoughts.

oXoXoXo
Zanna curled up in one of the large easy chairs in her bedroom, settling herself into the soft,
cushy fabric. She traced her fingers along the worn parchment pages of the book she was
cradling in her lap– a collection of old Sheikah legends. They were not like the wonderful epic
poems the Hylians wrote, although the language was just as beautiful. No... the heroes never
lived in these stories. The lovers never reunited. Fate demanded that the great pay for their lives
in pain and blood, and nothing in the world could relieve them of that burden. These were the
tales Sheikah children were told as they drifted to sleep in their cozy warm beds– it was what
they dreamed about.
Very cheerful. No wonder Zanna was so screwed up.
Her door was open, but someone knocked lightly on the frame, startling Zanna out of her reverie.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important...” Link said, hovering uncomfortably in the
doorway.
Zanna shrugged. “No, not really. Come in.”
Link nodded, but his approach was wary. He kept checking her face, as if he expected her to
jump up and attack him at any moment. When he reached the sitting area he started to sit in the
chair next to her but ultimately thought better of it and remained standing, arms folded across his
chest.
He sighed. “I was watching you all spar in the courtyard earlier. I heard what you said. Look,
I–”
“I forgive you,” Zanna interrupted, gazing sweetly up at him.
Link blinked in surprise, then scowled. “How can you be sure I’m here to apologize?”
She just stared, smiling pleasantly.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?” Zanna asked, eyes wide with innocense.
“Stop smiling like you’ve won– you don’t know what I’m about to say,” he replied. His brow
furrowed as he struggled to keep his composure, and this just made Zanna grin even more.
“You’re infuriating,” he said sourly.
“I try. Have a seat,” Zanna smirked, tilting her head toward the chair next to her. Link shook his
head in frustration, but he did as she asked. She watched him for a moment, not liking what she
was about to say, but knowing she had to say it anyway. “You know I don’t really blame you for
bringing me here, right? I don’t hold you responsible for any of it, and you shouldn’t hold
yourself responsible either.”
Link sighed, leaning back into the chair as he stared up at the ceiling. “I know that you don’t
blame me, but it is my fault you’re here. I feel badly enough that you were arrested, let alone
that you’re running around trying to off yourself now.”
“I’m not trying to ‘off myself’,” Zanna said indignantly, wrinkling her nose at the distasteful
words. “I’m not trying to do anything. That’s the point.”
“You can’t not do anything,” Link said with a shake of his head. “Nobody can. There’s no such
thing as neutrality.”
Zanna studied him carefully. “Do you really believe that?” she asked, lowering her barrier
slightly so that she could feel the emotion behind his answer.
“I really do,” he said firmly. His eyes met hers without wavering, and she knew he was telling
the truth.
Zanna shrugged. “Well, maybe you’re right. I suppose I’ll find out.”
“It’s inevitable,” Link confidently replied. “And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you don’t
get yourself killed before you figure it out.”
Zanna sighed heavily, glaring at him. It was Link’s turn to smile impishly.
“Don’t do that,” she muttered.
“Not so funny when it’s the other way around, eh?”
“Is that how you saved Hyrule? By annoying all the evil creatures away?” Zanna asked
petulantly.
Link grinned. “You’d be surprised. A blade through the skull can be pretty irritating.”
She couldn’t help herself– Zanna laughed. “Actually, that doesn’t surprise me at all.”
Link shifted so that he was more comfortable in the chair, making the most of its size. He was in
a green tunic as usual, but he had forgone his hat. Even though his sandy blond hair was
somewhat rebellious, it seemed to know precisely how to frame his face. It made him look
effortlessly attractive, as if he’d simply rolled out of bed that way. Heck, he probably had. It
was almost unfair.
Eyes like the ocean settled upon Zanna, their gaze washing over her. “So, do you really have
these marks?” Link asked, resting his chin on his right hand.
“What marks?” Zanna asked, gently touching her fingertips to her tattoo out of reflex.
“Not that,” Link said. “The ones on your back. The scars. Do they really look like wings?”
Zanna rolled her eyes. “Oh, that. No, it’s just a big ‘X’ on my back where the wolfos got me.
They don’t look anything like wings at all,” she chuckled. “It’s madness.”
Link nodded, but was examining her skeptically, as if he wasn’t quite convinced. “So when I
asked you about the Winged Sheikah, you had no idea it might be you,” he postulated.
“Of course not!” Zanna said defensively. His cynicism peeved her. Did he really think she had
been lying all this time? “Honest to the Gods, no one in their right mind would look at them and
think of wings,” she insisted. See for yourself if you don’t believe me.” In a fluid motion she
sat up and turned around in her seat, sliding up her tunic so that he could see the majority of her
back.
He inhaled sharply. “Din’s fire, Zanna...” he breathed, shocked by the severity of the scars.
Zanna felt a slight stab of embarrassment– disgusting people with your deformities tends to be
bad for self-esteem. But keeping these scars was her choice, and she’d learned to live with it.
“Well, I didn’t say it was pretty,” she muttered regretfully. “But it doesn’t look like wings, does
it?”
He may have shook his head, but with her back to him Zanna couldn’t tell. “I don’t know,” he
said, and it felt to Zanna that he had moved closer to her. “In a weird way, it does kind of
remind me of wings.”
Zanna felt something brush her left shoulder blade, and her heart leapt when she realized Link
was gently tracing the scars with his fingertips. “I have some pretty bad marks, but this...” he
trailed off, running his hand along the places where the raised scar tissue ran into Zanna’s soft
white complexion. He moved slowly and deliberately over her spine, down her right lower back,
almost to her hip, then trailed back up to her right shoulder blade for the other stripe.
“I wanted to keep the scars,” Zanna managed to say without stuttering, her skin tingling where
his fingertips blazed a line across the naked skin. “They’re important to me.”
“I like it,” Link said softly as he finished tracing the marks. He laid his hand flat against the
center of her back, where the lines crossed. “They do remind me of wings...” he murmured.
There was a flutter on her back, followed by a gentle warmth. Zanna realized slowly that it was
his breath– he had pressed his lips to her skin and kissed her. She shivered, although fire raced
down her spine. Before she had time to comprehend what he’d done, he pulled down her shirt
and settled back in his chair, as if he’d never touched her.
Zanna wasn’t sure she trusted herself to look cool and composed, but she couldn’t just ignore
him until he left. She slowly turned around, slinking down in the chair in hopes that the curved
back of it might hide her face from him. It didn’t.
“You’re blushing,” he said instantly, a wicked grin on his face.
“I am not,” Zanna said with as much seriousness as she could manage.
“You are,” Link laughed, obviously enjoying watching her squirm.
“I’m not– why should I be?” This seemed to feed, rather than silence his laughter. “Will you
cut it out?” she asked edgily.
“Sorry... it’s just that–” He was cut off by Zanna’s fingertips on his lips. She had completely
frozen, sitting up rigid in her chair as her unfocused eyes moved over something Link could not
see. “What is it?” he asked quietly, but there was alarm in his voice.
“I don’t believe it,” Zanna whispered, slowly shaking her head. “What have they done?”

oXoXoXo
“Gods in heaven!” Link exclaimed as he and Zanna jogged up to the front gates, Zanna slightly
ahead.
“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Zanna said, seething.
Pressing against the gate, desperately clawing and heaving against it, was a crowd of at least two
dozen wild-eyed men, women, and children. All of them were infected.
There was a crackle of red energy around them letting Zanna know they were being shielded, but
this only increased her alarm. To the side of the gate, just ahead of her, were Rowan, Resha,
Lyonel, and Melinda. Lyonel was grinning like a cat with a canary, and Rowan was looking at
Zanna apologetically.
“What in the three hells is going on?” Zanna demanded, approaching the group with long,
purposeful strides.
“I’m sorry, Zanna– Lyonel tricked us. By the time we got to the city gates we had to shield them
and bring them here, it would have been irresponsible not to–” Zanna raised a hand, silencing
Rowan’s anxious gush of words.
“You arranged this, Lyonel?” Zanna asked coldly, eyeing the man with unbridled contempt.
“I had the country’s border patrols round them up and bring them here,” he said smoothly, his
voice like silk even as his hands twitched and fiddled.
“You put those soldiers at risk!” Link said angrily, stepping closer to Lyonel. Lyonel was tall,
but Link was taller– Lyonel shrunk back a little, but his rat-like smile remained.
“Why did you do this?” Zanna asked. “To goad me?”
“You did say you would heal the sick, if you could,” Melinda said with the utmost elegance,
confidently examining Zanna with a graciousness that was infuriating. “We have a limited
amount of time, Ms. Impree Zanna. We must figure out what’s happening to this country– and
quickly. Can you heal them or not?”
Zanna glared at her. “I don’t know. What if I can’t? Will you kill them all?”
“Oh, I should hope it doesn’t come to that,” Melinda said mildly.
“You have to try, Zanna,” Resha said, and her voice was strained. Zanna studied her coldly, not
wanting to be petty at a time like this, but still feeling absolutely furious at her friend for helping
the toadies back Zanna into a corner.
“Will you try, Sheikah?” Melinda asked. “If you do not, I need not remind you that you will
have lied in front of the Council– an act equal to treason.”
“I’m not afraid of your Council,” Zanna snapped. “I already told you I was willing to die–
doubting my sincerity was stupid and very well may result in your death, as well as the deaths of
everyone here.”
Lyonel was looking a little antsy now– it seemed it hadn’t occurred to him that getting Zanna
arrested would mean that no one could cure the plague victims that were now less than 15 feet
away from him. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, that one. “Will you try, girl?” he asked
anxiously.
Zanna wanted to tell him to drop dead. She wanted to tell all of them to go to hell– that she
couldn’t be bribed or blackmailed. But she didn’t. She just looked at the suffering people on the
other side of the gate, feeling their fear and their pain so strongly that it was almost impossible to
bear. Their faces were even worse... they were weeping and tearing their hair, blindly knocking
at one another like panicked animals. Gods help them– there was blood everywhere. They
would rip themselves apart given enough time. Zanna’s heart broke, and she knew she couldn’t
say no. She simply couldn’t. “Damn it all to hell...
“Of course I’ll try,” she growled, but it didn’t sound as nasty as she’d intended. Instead it just
sounded small, and broken– filled with the compassion she felt for the people at the gate.
Sighing, Zanna went over to the pillar on the left side of the inner gates and began to climb.
“What are you doing?” Resha asked as Zanna reached the top.
“Well, I can’t very well heal them from outside the barrier, now can I?” she asked sharply.
Resha’s face darkened with guilt.
Zanna just shook her head and hopped gracefully into the mass of writhing bodies below.
“Zanna!” someone cried– Link, it sounded like– but Zanna was beyond all warning. There were
hands and mouths everywhere, pushing and pulling, begging for help. She could hear everything
from incoherent wailing to low, rapid speech: “Please don’t, please help me, I swear to the
Goddesses I’ll never cheat again, I’ll never gamble, just don’t– don’t!! GODS!”
Such cries were everywhere, and their emotions pushed in on her as if she were being smothered
between giant cushions. Zanna staggered and dropped to her knees, trying not to let the anguish
overcome her, but she was panting with the effort– practically becoming one of the diseased as
she grabbed someone’s arm and tried to levy herself up. The person threw her off wildly, and
Zanna caught a shoe to the face. Gods! If she didn’t act soon she would be trampled!
Ignoring the pain of their emotions as well as the pain of their hands and feet on her body, Zanna
drew all of her focus inward. She gathered all of her energy, letting it swirl between her palms
like a tiny teal star, glowing and growing with every moment. When she was sure she had
collected every ounce of her strength, Zanna took notice of each individual with her empathy,
took a deep breath, and dropped all of her shields.
The pain was immediate and breathtaking. Horrible images danced before Zanna’s eyes– blood,
monsters, and unspeakable acts of hatred and perversion that would haunt her the rest of her
days. Her entire body ached as if it were being poked all over with tiny pins of red-hot metal,
and all the while her energy was leaving her in a massive outpouring. She felt herself getting
weaker and weaker, the pain intensifying as blackness closed in from all sides.
Then, suddenly, it stopped. The images disappeared, evaporating like phantoms in the morning
light, and the stabbing pain ebbed away. There was a woman’s scream, but it too faded– Zanna
realized it had been her own voice crying out. She opened her eyes, although the earth seemed
to sway beneath her like a ship in a storm.
Grabbing the bars of the gate for support, Zanna staggered to her feet. What she saw amazed
her.
They were healed– all of them. The yellow tint was gone from their skin, life had returned to
their glassy eyes, and all around she could feel their mild confusion as they became aware of
their surroundings. She tried to slide up her barriers again, but she didn’t have the strength. She
would just have to deal with sensing everyone’s emotions.
“Where are we?” one of the men asked blearily, rubbing his eyes.
“Why, we’re at the castle!” said another.
“Wenta, why is your dress so torn? My Gods, what has happened?”
Zanna felt a strange blossoming in her heart, and thus came the after-effect... the reason she
hated healing spells above all kinds of sorcery.
She loved them.
Every last one of them had her full and intimate affection, as if they had been her own family.
For an empath of Zanna’s strength, the connection that was formed by performing a healing spell
of such a magnitude was an irreversible bond. She’d looked into their souls. Zanna would love
them the rest of her life, and they’d love her right back.
Sighing, she took a few unsteady steps toward them.
“My child,” said an elderly woman, taking Zanna’s hands and looking warmly up into her face.
“What has happened to you? You’re bleeding.”
Zanna smiled painfully, her chest constricting at the woman’s touch. She was so like Cedra...
“I’m fine,” Zanna said gently, patting the old woman’s hand. “It’s the rest of you who were not
well.”
There was a murmur of agreement amongst them. “Yes, we can see that,” said a tall man with a
mess of flaming red hair atop his head. His eyes were greener than the forest god herself. “Do
you know what’s happened to us? We’re from Saruko, about 30 miles East of Ordona. None of
us can recall how we got here.”
So they couldn’t remember their nightmares– it was only Zanna who would remember them.
Great.
“What’s your name?” Zanna asked kindly.
“Tereni,” he replied. “I’m the mayor of our village.” There was strength in his expression, and
sincerity. These were good people– Zanna could not help but be glad she’d healed them.
“Tereni, I am sorry to tell you that you’ve all been ill. You were infected with a disease that
overtakes the mind, and makes its victims believe they’re experiencing their worst nightmares.”
There was a gasp from a young woman, and a rustle of consent from several others– they were
frightened. “It’s all right,” Zanna assured them. “I’m a Sheikah healer, and I was able to restore
all of you. Unfortunately it’s not safe for you to return to your homes. I’ll just open the gate and
this man here will tell you where you might be able to find alternative lodgings closer to the city,
until the plague has cleared...” Zanna trailed off, gesturing for the castle guards to open the inner
gates. After a quick glance at Link, who nodded, they did so, and Zanna limped over to Lyonel
with a weary expression.
“I trust you have someplace for them to stay?” she asked tersely.
Lyonel was stumped, but Melinda interjected. “Yes, there is an empty warehouse nearby which
can be used as an emergency shelter for these people. Lyonel, kindly explain this to them, and
let them know that they can get free bread and water at meal times by lining up at the soldiers’
barracks– I’ll send word to the Captain.”
Lyonel glared first at Melinda, then at Zanna with all the hatred he could muster before stalking
off to do as he was told. Melinda smiled at Zanna with a vaguely surprised delight, as if she
were staring at a dog that had just performed a trick. Zanna scowled back at her.
“Are you all right?” Link asked, taking Zanna’s arm to steady her and studying her face with
concern.
Zanna nodded mutely, trying to recover herself as quickly as possible.
“Your hand,” Rowan gasped, noticing the bloody mess at the end of Zanna’s left arm. “It’s
crushed. Let me heal it for you.” He bent down to attend the wound, but Zanna took a careful
step back.
“Don’t,” she said gently but firmly. “It will be a waste. You can heal me when I’m all done.”
“When you’re all done?” Link asked, his gaze snapping to Melinda with distrust. The old
woman just smiled pleasantly.
Zanna’s cold gaze was settled upon on Resha, who had broken out in a light sweat now with the
effort of keeping two fairly large barriers going at once. “Yes, there’s more,” Zanna murmured.
She sighed and delicately made her way to the nearest pillar, where she sat down with a great
deal of effort. “Just give me another fifteen minutes, Resha, and you can bring them up.
Otherwise I don’t think I’ll be able to heal all 50 of them at once.”
“50?” Link exclaimed, studying the other Sheikah in alarm. “She just healed half that many and
look what it’s done to her! You can’t tell me you’re going to let her try 50 at once.”
“There’s no other option,” Rowan said regretfully. “They’re just outside the city walls.
Everyone is in danger if she doesn’t try.”
“Does Zelda know about this?” Link asked, turning on Melinda furiously.
The old woman chuckled. “Why, Hero, the Council was given permission to investigate this
matter– you heard it yourself.”
“If you knew the risk you were taking, you wouldn’t have dreamed of doing this,” Rowan
chastised, shaking his head at the old woman. “As we speak I’m praying Zanna can heal the
others.”
Melinda feigned surprise. “But that is precisely what I am doing, young Sheikah! I too am
praying she will succeed. We shall soon find out if our prayers are answered.”
oXoXoXo
Zanna did succeed, although she sincerely doubted that prayers had anything to do with it. The
group was as big as she’d suspected– a bit bigger, even. There were 56 of them. She had
thought the first time was bad, but it was nothing compared to what she saw the second time.
She hoped to the Gods that she’d be able to scrub the images of these people’s nightmares from
her mind eventually, or she’d never sleep again.
In addition to the images, the physical pain had tripled– this time she’d almost failed because of
it, so great was the distraction. And the mob was rowdier: by the time she finished Zanna’s arm
had been broken in several places, and her face was a bloody mess. She let Lyonel explain
everything to the villagers– Zanna’s appearance frightened them.
That made Zanna laugh, and she instantly regretted it. Seemed she’d broken a few ribs as well.
Luckily, Rowan was waiting like a horse before a race– as soon as she was through the gates he
patched her up with remarkable skill and speed. She was in bad shape, however, and the effort
tired him out. Healing spells were taking their toll on everyone today, it seemed.
“Well, Sorceress, it appears you are the cure for this plague after all,” Melinda purred once
Zanna’s major injuries had been mended. “Now we have only to determine whether or not you
are the cause of it.”
“If you do anything like this again, I will drag you before the Princess and request your
execution myself,” Link said, with an edge to his voice that was sharp enough to split parchment.
“Do not be so hasty, Hero. We have accomplished much today.”
“You almost killed all of us– that is what you have accomplished,” Zanna said, unable to put any
real fire behind her words. She swayed unsteadily and braced herself by placing one hand on
Link’s arm and the other on Rowan’s. Goddesses, she was tired. She’d never needed sleep this
badly in her entire life. But Melinda needed to understand. “Melinda,” Zanna said evenly,
making steady eye contact with the woman. Her shields were shot for the day, and so she could
feel every squirming emotion in the old Councilor, like dozens of worms slithering against each
other. She was old, but she was conniving and very, very clever. Plotting, for sure– but what?
“You need to know that I almost failed today,” Zanna said. Melinda gave a feline smile and
Zanna shook her head in warning. “No games, Councilor. No traps. I’m too tired to deal with
it. The second group was almost too much– they almost overcame me. The more of them there
are, the more frantic they get... if I had died they would have turned on you, and you would have
had to slaughter 56 innocent civilians or die yourself. In my village we would have removed an
Elder instantly for such an irresponsible act– there would be no trial.”
Melinda was still observing Zanna calmly, but there was a glint in her eye now, and her lips were
tight. Zanna could feel some displeasure bubbling up to the surface, and she was pretty sure she
didn’t want to know what it was. “We will discuss this more thoroughly before the Council,”
Melinda said simply, and then, with a nod to Resha, Rowan and Link, she turned and gracefully
removed herself to the castle. Lyonel trailed behind her, shooting Zanna a dirty look over his
shoulder. Zanna sighed and shook her head.
“Zanna, I’m sorry,” Resha said as soon as the Councilors were out of hearing range. “Lyonel
told us that a pack of Wolfos had gone mad and were prowling the city walls. Rowan and I
agreed to help the soldiers destroy them, but when we got there...” she shook her head, looking
to Rowan for help. He just nodded encouragingly. “Well, they were all waiting, of course. I
had to throw up a shield to protect the city. We could either kill them or bring them to you.”
“We had to try,” Rowan said gently. “But if we’d known how dangerous it would be–”
“I would have found another way,” Resha said firmly. “I would never risk your life.”
Zanna laid her hand on Resha’s shoulder and shook her head. She was just too tired to be angry;
even as she tried to be firm her voice sounded resigned. “You did what you thought was best,
and it all worked out, Resha. Don’t worry.”
Resha looked at her uncertainly, guilt visible in her shining golden eyes. “I’d rather you just yell
at me,” she said snapped, before turning and sprinting toward the castle, surprisingly light on her
feet considering how hard she’d worked at keeping up the shields.
Zanna pinched the bridge of her nose, amazed that she was able to feel irritated even as tired as
she was.
“She was afraid for you,” Rowan sighed, watching Resha go. He turned his eyes to Zanna, and
smiled warmly. “But I’m glad you pulled through. I think... deep down, we both knew you
could do it. That’s why we brought them up. Your empathy is remarkable, Zanna, it really is.”
She shook her head, not wanting to talk about it any more. “My empathy is giving me a gods
awful headache, Rowan, but thank you for your confidence. I really need to lie down.”
“Let me help you,” Link said quickly.
Rowan raised an eyebrow, staring curiously at him. Link panicked and began backpedaling
immediately. “I mean, let me help you to your room,” he corrected. If Zanna didn’t know any
better she’d say he was the one blushing now.
She smiled. “Thanks but no thanks. I can take care of myself.”
...Couldn’t she? It was time to find out. The first couple of yards went off without a hitch, but
when the path back to the castle took an upward turn, she began to have issues. Her head was
swimming with exhaustion, and her legs were lead, refusing to comply with even the simplest
commands. A particularly evil rock was jutting out of the road– it caught Zanna’s toe and down
she went!
She was saved from landing face-first in the dirt by a pair of strong hands, hoisting her up by the
back of her tunic. Link wordlessly set her on her feet and slipped his arm around her waist,
steadying her so that she could walk without tripping all over herself.
“I said I don’t want help,” she insisted sleepily, feeling particularly grouchy because of how tired
she was.
“Shut up,” he replied simply, without even taking his eyes off the path ahead.
“What did you say?” Zanna asked, genuinely shocked.
“I said shut up,” Link repeated evenly. His voice was neutral.
“You’re lucky that sounds like such a great idea right now, or I’d slap you outright,” Zanna
muttered.
Link just smirked, and they made their way up to the castle in silence.
- 7
- 8
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Triforce of the Gods